Before the Fall
by A. of Arcadia
Summary: Your typical Eden fic featuring Aziraphale and beforehewasCrowley Crawly. Slash.


A fic about Aziraphale and before-he-was-Crowley Crawly in the Garden of Eden. As always, no credit for me, only for Terry and Neil. I AIN'T STEPPIN' ON NO ONE'S TOES. ... Also, it's slash. Yup. It's been a while since I've written a fic, can you tell?

**Before the Fall**

**by: Aloren Häretisch **

No one actually knows how much time stretched between the creation of Heaven and its Host and the Lord's endeavor into the world of Men. Though most angels will say that they've been around since the dawn of time, many people will claim that this is just divine arrogance, and that angels are not much older than humans. It is true, however, that all of a sudden they simply came to _be_,with all knowledge of right and wrong (as pertaining to angels), their orders, their purpose in life, and an ingenious sense of direction already ingrained into their souls.

Aziraphale contemplated this one morning as he watched the plants rise from the newborn soil. The Lord was creating again, flexing his imagination into fact fluidly; the angel swooped down and ran a finger across a blade of grass, instantly understanding its needs and dreams instead of feeling the softness of its curve. It craved light, it longed for water, and fancied itself comfortable in the earth for as long as it lived, creating air and a comfortable walk for all things with lungs and bare feet. Aziraphale smiled at the tender seedling and wished it well. He never had to breathe, personally, and when he walked it was an inch and a half off the ground, but he appreciated its efforts none the less.

The subject of his birth, however, was constantly called into question by the many tiny lives popping up around him. Their first day on Earth could be traced to the Third; Aziraphale's life had no beginning. He simply _was_, just like all of his friends (though there weren't many, or, in fact, any at all) _were_, and the empathy they were created with made them assume they had been around forever. It was a strange paradox indeed, and the only One who knew the answer was busy crafting Himself a lovely line of peonies.

In the end, the evening waned (though there was yet no Sun or Moon), and Aziraphale decided not to let it get to him anymore. Some things simply were not meant to be, and though angels had more knowledge than what was really healthy sometimes, they were not blessed with knowing the ineffable plan. _Perhaps,_ the angel thought as he settled into the East, _this is another thing we should not question Him on._

And the rest agreed.

The next day, Aziraphale decided, was his favorite of all. The creation of the Sun had been a work of pure genius. Angels were warm internally, and could glow like tiny stars, but the heat from the Sun was completely different. Stars warm the heart and the mind, causing a sense of untouchable mysticism, but only the Sun can reach down and stroke the soul, creating a feeling of love and comfort. Compared to the beams spreading over his arms, Aziraphale felt as though his own furnace was stale and alone. He threw his head back, absorbed the rays into his skin, hair, and eyes, and smiled.

Man was new, and already the Host was envious. Instead of being jealous of Man's dominion over the cattle and land (and apparently the heart of their Lord), however, Aziraphale was simply curious. He enjoyed watching them from his post, and studying the way they moved. Their feet bruised the vegetation beneath them, and their chests pumped up and down softly. They walked along the Garden, eyes wide, their hands entwined, and Aziraphale smiled at their amazement. It _was_ beautiful, he agreed. And so were they.

Now, angels unto themselves are quite brilliant to look at, but Man was so new and enthralling that Aziraphale found his eyes fixed on them day and night. They stepped gingerly, as if uncertain of the ground, and the angel in the East wondered what it was like to step. They breathed the good air in, savoring it in their lungs, and he wondered what it was like to breathe. They clasped one another and kissed while reclined, and Aziraphale wondered what it was like to hold someone so close.

He watched and watched and watched, until finally he could take it no longer.

He found the Lord walking amongst the trees.

_My King,_ he addressed reverently, _all you have made is very dazzling, very charming indeed. However I was wondering -- if you forgive me, I mean no disrespect, not questioning you or anything – if I may also learn what it's like to be human? If you would permit me a day, perhaps, to be one of them, so that I may learn what it's like to be Man. I think I could guide them better if I understood how they worked._

The Lord looked at him and Aziraphale felt tears start in his eyes. Suddenly, he knew.

_Thank you, my King._

He transformed for the first time on the other side of the Garden, so that the humans would not see and be afraid. It was all together a rocky experience, this change. He had no practice, but he wished, as the Lord had instructed him to, and all of a sudden came crashing to the ground. A delicious tingle, almost like fire in his blood, worked its way up from beneath him; Aziraphale shifted and realized he had bruised his shin. His wings were gone, replaced by weaker back muscles and a startling desire to be on the ground _at all times._ His skin no longer glowed, his hair limped downward to frame his face, and for the first time his nerves screamed with the feeling of the grass against his palms and the wind flushed against his shoulder.

Aziraphale drew his first breath and shuddered, his eyes fluttering closed for the longest moment of his life; indeed, it was then, he decided, that for the first time he truly felt _alive._ "This," he formed the words with his tongue, pleased with the sounds of this new language, created by him alone and not divine perception, "is my Beginning."

He stood on his feet for the first time and began to run. The air caressed his naked skin, tickling him, infiltrating his lungs. He circled the trees, one by one, and experienced his first dizzy spell. Blood rushed through his veins, through his heart, and though it always beat before in the past, it had risen and pounded for the first time in his entire being. Everything was new, and exciting, and _free_. The only thing that felt the same was the Sun radiating over his body. The warmth he felt was the same as always; it grounded him and kept him from going mad with ecstasy. And indeed Aziraphale was correct when he said that this was where he began. Never before had he felt so happy to be alive, or enjoyed something other than the customary love of the Lord. Life before this was worship, reverence, and prayer; the only satisfaction was knowing he that was loved. As a human, he could breathe, he could run, and when he laughed the air rushed through his lungs and he made a sound he had never heard from himself before. His joy spread to those around him, and all was glad.

The Lord watched from the branches of a tree and the daylight shone brightly over His face. He felt truly appreciated in that moment, and smiled. Instinctually, Aziraphale cast his watery eyes to the canopy, and thought he saw the Sun amongst the leaves, but in a heartbeat it was gone.

It is said that angels don't dance, and of all the dimwitted saying that have developed over time, this one is actually correct. Angels do not dance, in fact, and nor do angels who have recently manifested themselves into human forms. But if an angel is filled with enough intoxicating happiness, and especially if he is in a brand new human body, it is possible for him to frolic. It is a shame that no one has started the saying, _angels can be master frolickers_, for this would be the most truthful of all, and Aziraphale was proving it on his first day as a human.

He twirled amongst a field of bright blue wildflowers, the wind in his hair and grass curling about his feet. He rushed undaunted into a patch of longer stalks, and giggled as they tickled his hips; the ground was hard beneath his soles, and each rock and thorn that caught his skin only caused the angel more jubilation, for he had never before felt what it was like to bleed. Aziraphale fancied himself to be a stream, to flow and to ebb, to wash anew from his body to the soil. He surveyed each bright patch of blood upon the emerald grass and grinned. For the first time he _understood_.

The angel threw himself upon the ground and wriggled up to a nearby flower. Its scent spread over him and delighted his spine, causing his toes to curl and a soft sound of appreciation to escape his lips. And oh, for the first time he could _hear_, truly hear the sounds of a nearby river, the sounds of the breeze whistling across the trunks of the trees, the sound of himself as he inhaled and moved and laughed and lived. Aziraphale writhed on top the grass and fell in love with all the senses angels were without. Sure, angels could smell, and hear, and see, and touch, but they did not have the nervous system of a human, and could not really feel so much as know. When an angel spoke, he did so with his mind and heart, and the one he was addressing comprehended it. It did not take an elaborate series of gestures with the tongue, lips, and teeth to form words. And when they touched, they did not feel so much as recognize the numb pressure against their bodies.

But Aziraphale discovered he liked it better this way.

He was on his feet again, waltzing slowly through a forest bordering the field covered in his footprints, humming softly to a song no one knew. The sound of his voice delighted him, the breaths he took to force the music out of him pushed his elation higher, and the way his body moved as he turned amongst the trees drove it all home, causing every cell in his body to scream with delirium. His hips swayed, his hands found their way into his hair (touching the soft golden silk for the first time), and he twisted and turned with the churning air created in his wake.

It was the closest thing to a dance as frolicking could be. And it was being observed by another.

"Ssshake it," it hissed.

Aziraphale let out his first scream.

While humans eventually found out what the Lord wanted them to do, by the means of ten brief but nevertheless heavy engravings, angels only have one distinction between what is right and what is wrong. They were created with the following rule: "Do not question ineffability, or you will be Grounded." Aziraphale was very careful to stick to this rule after having seen Lucifer's "grounding", and decided that it was best just to trust that the Lord knew what he was doing.

He never could look at Him without a powerful swelling in his heart.

Though he was no American Idol.

"Calm down," the creature whispered, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Wh-wh-who are you?" Aziraphale stammered, finally finding something he did not like about being a human. Fear, when spread through his limbs and chest, created panic and a blinding urge to run away as quickly as possible; it also, apparently, hindered one's ability to speak eloquently.

"Friendsss call me Crawly," the serpent replied. He paused for a moment, then admitted, "I'm thinking of changing it."

"S-s-serpents can't speak! He created language for Man!" Aziraphale protested, not believing what he was seeing.

"And angelsss cannot dance, but you were getting clossse."

The golden-haired being stiffened automatically, his eyebrows narrow. "How did you know I'm an angel?" he asked angrily. He thought his transformation had been flawless; a quick look behind him proved that his wings were indeed gone, and that his skin was no longer radiant. "And you still have not told me who you are!"

"That's not very fair," the snake replied sharply, his tongue flickering as he moved his slender head down to look the angel in the eye. "You still haven't told me who _you_ are. And, if you _mussst_ know, I know you're an angel because I've seen you before. You're the angel at the Eastern Gate."

"Sounds like you already know who I am," Aziraphale grumbled.

"I don't know your name."

The angel met the serpent's eyes and caught his reflection in their yellow shine. He noted the dirt smeared across his face, the blood creeping down his shoulder where a thorn bush had nicked his flesh. There were tear tracks on his cheeks from the overwhelming joy he had felt earlier. _I look dreadful,_ he thought with a frown.

"Yesss, you do," Crawly hissed.

Suddenly, it dawned on him. Aziraphale jumped back and crouched, his fists tightening automatically. "Demon!" he cried, glaring angrily at the slim form uncurling itself from around the branch in front of him. "You're a demon!" So _that's_ why the name sounded familiar.

If it were possible for a snake to shrug, Crawly would have done so. "I'm not going to eat you, angel," he said easily. He knew Aziraphale wouldn't attack him. Rumor around the Underworld was that the Eastern angel was as big a pansy as they came, and the snake believed it after having witnessed his prance through the field.

"My name is Aziraphale," the angel finally replied, straightening his back and standing straight. "Come any closer and my flaming sword— er… my…"

Crawly stared at him blankly. "Your what?"

Humbled, Aziraphale slumped and cast a sullen expression to the ground. "I seem to have misplaced my flaming sword again," he grumbled.

When a snake laughs, it is a very strange occurrence indeed. A rapid-fire hiss session began to fire from the lipless smile on the serpent's face. Aziraphale blushed and continued to focus on the dirt, instead of the newfound sensation of blood rising to his cheeks and heating his skin. He had a desperate urge to fidget, which he ignored, and waited for Crawly to quiet down. When he eventually did, the next words he uttered were not mocking or mean; they were coated with the same passionate curiosity Aziraphale recognized in himself.

"How did you become human?"

The angel smiled at the snake, feeling a wave of pride and accomplishment spread through his chest. He was, indeed, the first to transform into a man, and now the limbless serpent was envious. Aziraphale weighed the pros and cons of teaching Crawly to manifest himself a new body, and then figured there was no harm in it. Rumor around the Elysium was that the one who sauntered vaguely downwards wasn't such a bad guy.

"Just wish for it and it shall be," he replied softly, reaching a hand out and taking the extended body from the tree. Crawly slid down his arm gratefully, around his neck, and leveled his head with Aziraphale's ear. The angel giggled and squirmed at the strange new sensations this created in his human body. A tingling, almost distinctly decadent feeling arose in him, his skin heating, his breath puffing out in short, sharp little spasms. Scales against flesh, cool and smooth, along with a tongue passing innocently over the framework of his ear – smelling, seeing, testing, _knowing_ him – all combined to make the angel shudder again, his earlier feelings of elation bubbling to the sky once more.

Surely the demon couldn't be too bad if he felt this good.

Crawly, who had been inhabiting a body other than his natural demon form for some time now, was not surprised by the warmth he felt as he slid along the angel's neck. He was a bit more down to earth and used to the sensations of smell, sight, and taste. His tongue roamed hitherto from place to place as often as he could manage, so an identity could be formed in his senses of the creatures around him. Currently, he was working on knowing Aziraphale, who smelled of peonies and wheat.

He wasn't completely blind to the fact that Aziraphale was enjoying his emerald green scales flexing across his neck a bit too much. Crawly became envious of the angel's body, its hypersensitivity, and of the warmth that seemed to spread from a core within him.

"I just wisssh?"

"That's all you need," Aziraphale whispered, teeth worrying softly at his lower lip.

Crawly moved down the angel's body, stretching far along his torso, and circling down one strong thigh and to the ground. Aziraphale jumped and let out a soft groan, drowning in all sorts of new, almost electrical pulsations quivering beneath his skin. The serpent had brushed along a sensitive part of the human form; the angel, too drunk with touch to remember where this was, took it in stride and blinked his soft blue eyes as the serpent coiled loosely on the dust beneath him.

It took a few moments for Crawly to work up the nerve. But when he finally did, his lidless eyes grew distant as he flexed his mind and _wanted_ as much as his dark little heart could possibly want, every cell in his brain demanding that he change, that he grow arms, and legs, and skin, and hair. Almost immediately, the snake shifted, and to Aziraphale's delight, there on the ground now laid a dark-haired man with a toned physique and…

"Did I do okay?" Crawly vocalized carefully.

Aziraphale stared at his companion's yellow snake eyes, gave a weak smile, and shrugged. "Close enough."

It took a few minutes for Crawly to get the hang of legs. He stumbled like a newborn deer, wobbling weakly and clasping onto trees for balance. And then, suddenly, it started to come to him, and his footfalls were surer. Aziraphale couldn't help but grin inanely as he watched the demon-snake-turned-human check out his surroundings. "What do you think?" the angel asked.

Crawly turned his wide eyes to the other and stared. _Sound_ was something he hadn't experienced through human ears just yet. Snakes had relatively good eyesight and smell, but hearing and touch were still so new and electric that he was overwhelmed by it — by Aziraphale's voice, by the feel of the bark underneath his fingertips, and most of all, of the warmth radiating from his skin. He had so much energy brewing within him, no longer relying on the Sun's rays to heat his body. It was merciless, this internal furnace that powered his blood. The misery of a cold-blooded creature disappeared from his bones in an instant.

"It's wonderful," he answered, grinning as he didn't trip over his 's'. "Aziraphale, did you hear th—uh… What?"

The angel's eyes were fixed on a spot that definitely wasn't Crawly's face. Suddenly self-conscious, the dark haired demon shifted and covered himself with his hands. "Don't look so shocked!" he protested. "You have one too."

"I do?" Aziraphale asked, glancing down his torso for the first time. Like lightning, his eyebrows jumped to his hairline as he discovered what certain benefits came with a human body. Unfortunately for the pair, the world of mortals was still so new that neither understood what the extra appendage was for. "I… I guess it just comes with the human body," he stammered, blushing for the second time.

"The woman doesn't have one," Crawly pointed out.

"Well, the man doesn't have those… whatever-they-ares on his chest, so… I guess we're just man-shaped." Neither the man nor the woman seemed to be ashamed of their bodies, however, so Aziraphale assumed there was nothing strange about it at all. Besides, bucks weren't ashamed of their horns, so why should they be ashamed of all the extra things that came with being human? He relaxed and smiled at Crawly, who disarmed as well and turned back to the angel. "What now?"

Suddenly, the demon brightened. "Have you ever taken a swim?"

"Beg your pardon?"

Crawly motioned for Aziraphale to follow him, and the pair, giddy with anticipation, raced off to the nearest river.

It was one of the most exciting experiences of Aziraphale's life. His feet went first, then his palms, hips, and torso, until the tips of his curly blonde hair were heavy with cold river water. At first the temperature was a tad uncomfortable, but quickly his blood compensated and adjusted. The angel sighed, sinking deep into the crystal clear flow, a slow ecstatic smile filling his face. "Oh my dear, Crawly," Aziraphale purred. "If only we had this in Heaven."

"If only we had it in Hell!" the demon snorted, grinning in that bastard fashion Aziraphale was already becoming accustomed to. He slipped into the water with a groan, flexing his brand new muscles comfortably. "Told you it was wonderful." And really, it was so much better than he remembered from a few days ago. Then, he could only remain in the water for a few minutes before his serpentine body became sluggish and depressed from the chill, but now he thought for sure he could stay for hours if he wanted.

"I feel positively weightless." The angel leaned back, inhaled deeply, and let himself float on top of the water peacefully. The cold, tranquil dissipation of gravity, his own deep breathing, and the lifting of his rich wet hair away from his head rocked him into a gentle trance. How splendid it was to simply float along with the clouds, never leaving the embrace of the Sun, to think of nothing but how deeply romantic it felt to have every part of oneself caressed and kissed by the transient current! Aziraphale noted, scholarly and pleased, the way his chest dipped under as he exhaled, only to bubble up once more as he took another drag of the crisp afternoon air.

"You're going out too far, angel!" Crawly suddenly warned. He sounded so thin and far away that Aziraphale immediately lifted his dreamy head and, smiling, tried to locate his darker companion. Sure enough, Crawly was some lengths away, black hair plastered to his face, frown visible. Aziraphale stopped his lazy recline, turned upright, and exhaled.

Then he realized he couldn't swim.

_Shloop!_

Aziraphale was staring at the bottom of the riverbed. Without a full pair of lungs, he had sunk like a rock and stayed there. A swift claustrophobia swelled within him; sure, the water was clean and transparent, but the angel wasn't used to feeling pressure all around him, encasing him and suffocating his skin. It was like being buried alive, only much colder. Flailing, the angel tried to gasp for breath, hoping it would push him up like it had before, but immediately choked. His chest burned, and the overwhelming urge to gag pinched his vision, turning the underwater world into a million shades of grey. A vicious panic set in; Aziraphale wondered in his hysteria whether or not this was some sort of Hellish trap he had foolishly walked into. His body twisted, his mouth gaped like a fish, and more and more intrusive water streamed down his throat.

And then, a hand – a strong, clenching fist around his palm, dragging him to the surface. Aziraphale broke through with a spray, his hair in his eyes, all the while making the most ghastly wheezing noises. Crawly immediately pulled him close and settled his hands at Aziraphale's forearms. "There, there," he shooshed, as if he were calming an injured young bird. "Settle down, angel, you just got scared. It's okay."

Desperate and petrified, Aziraphale clung to him like an infant. "It _burned_ me!" he cried, clutching Crawly's shoulders, a manic look in his eyes. "The more I tried to breathe the more it burned me!"

"You can't breathe water, silly," the demon counseled in what he hoped was something vaguely soothing. "Man can't breathe water anymore than a snake can breathe dust." Finally, the angel began to quiet down. His shoulders and grip loosened, much to Crawly's relief (for he was now sporting ten crescent nail bites), and he began to mimic his rescuer's soft tread.

"Like this?" Aziraphale whispered, as if speaking too loudly would cause another angel shipwreck.

"Just like that," Crawly coached, moving his hands off of Aziraphale's arms.

"DON'T LET GO!" the blonde shrieked, lunging forward to throw his arms around the demon's neck. His momentum took them both under, and for a moment they were suspended under the river, frozen from shock. Watery blue eyes met watery yellow eyes, and before panic could grow in his companion again, Crawly grabbed the angel's hips and gave a few great kicks.

On the surface, they were flushed tightly together due to the rather firm strangle hold Aziraphale had around Crawly's neck. Crawly mentally thanked whatever divine design allowed him to survive without oxygen; a fact Aziraphale obviously hadn't learned yet. He moved his hands up and passed soft strokes along the quivering angel's back. Slowly, Aziraphale calmed once more and began to sniff. Crawly retrieved his face from the sopping gold curls and looked into those sad blue eyes aimed at his own. "Aziraphale?"

"I thought it was a trap," his companion admitted shamefully. "I thought you had lured me out here to drown me. But instead you… twice… I'm sorry." He set his chin upon Crawly's shoulder and once again began to tread the water on his own.

For a moment, the demon considered telling his companion that breathing wasn't necessary for them, and that Aziraphale could have inhaled the entire river and, aside from being achy and rather full, still would have been perfectly alive. Crawly had discovered many things in his short week as a snake, and the most important lesson was that, even if they inhabited the shape of a mortal creature, they were not bound to the same limitations. If they wanted to, they could fast forever without withering away. It was a rare "all benefits, no fine print" deal. In Crawly's opinion, this was very helpful information, and probably would keep Aziraphale from working himself up so often.

Of course he completely understood why the sweet-faced messenger was so easily overwhelmed; for, really, they were pioneers as much as the man and the woman. Mortal life was so relentlessly _new_ that no one quite knew what to expect. The humans, they had instincts that told them not to breathe water, but Crawly and Aziraphale had the instincts of other beings -- creatures that had no prior knowledge that air could even exist before Creation was sprung on them. Everything was trial and error; they could learn from no one but each other and their own experiences. And if something hadn't been tried already, it was only through leading the experiment that the outcome could be determined. It was scary, and nerve-wracking, to not know what could befall you if you tried this, or what could save you if you landed in that situation. How was an angel to know if his human body required a working respiratory system like real humans did, unless he held his breath and faced a possibly horrifying outcome if he held it too long? How was he to know that, if held under water, he could survive like a fish?

Crawly absolutely understood how Aziraphale felt, and decided to come clean. Rather than let the poor guy learn everything on his own, Crawly would share the experiences he'd had in the past week and work together with the angel to learn all the aspects and properties of their new bodies.

But suddenly, as Aziraphale placed a soft, grateful kiss upon his shoulder, and a leg still treading the water brushed innocently against his own, Crawly decided to let his companion find out on his own. "I'm sorry," the blonde repeated delicately, pressing closer still to the demon's chest, as if begging for forgiveness.

"It's okay, angel," Crawly grunted, his mind drenched with unfamiliar feelings. "Don't… don't mention it."

Aziraphale liked to think that to touch a truly evil presence would be like getting kicked in the teeth with a pair of football cleats. Not that football, cleats, or kicks to the gob were invented yet… but you get the picture.

Exactly seven days.

Hey, he never claimed to be a saint.

"They say He made this world in Heaven's likeness, you know. But I think all of this is almost superior. There are so many things here, even just in this Garden, that make Heaven seem so mundane. Take breathing, for example; simple act of pushing in air and expelling it. It's so natural that you can completely forget about it, but it's as if your chest has read your mind and before you realize, it's gone and done it for you. And all those subtle little feelings that come with it, Crawly, do you feel them? It's like every breath unlocks these tiny spots of contentment in your limbs, and oh, it's so lovely. It makes you feel very free, I think. Do you know what I mean?"

"I do, angel."

"There isn't any air in Heaven, you know. So no breathing, which I think is a travesty now. And no Sun, either. There's just this thin, almost gray sort of tinge that makes everything illuminated, but not warm."

"I remember what Heaven's like."

"… Right, I'm sorry. I keep forgetting."

"It's fine."

"Crawly?"

"Angel."

"Why did you decide to fall?"

"I didn't."

"… Oh. Is that so? Well, er… what is it like, if you don't mind me asking?"

"… One day you look up from your normal routine and suddenly all of the security you thought you had is gone. Home is nowhere, and you wonder, 'How the Hell did this happen? It was so gradual.' And you're scared, because… it's either one or the other, right? And now that the one you were so used to has turned its back on you, there's only one thing left to turn to; so you convert, you make a few promises, and you agree to do what they say for the sake of your survival. And if you mess up, there's no divine forgiveness. Aside from that, it's a lot like being an angel, I suppose. You may not agree with all of their policies, but it's one or the other, and you don't have a choice in the matter. In Hell, their punishments damage your soul; in Heaven, they damage your heart. It only seems harsher, but it's about the same."

"… Oh."

"Hope that's good enough."

"Crawly?"

"Aziraphale."

"I don't think you're evil. I'm sorry Heaven turned its back on you."

"Sometimes I am too. Sometimes."

"But not often."

"Not anymore."

The conversation waned and died off, leaving the pair in silence as the Sun began to fall from the sky. In its wake it sprayed colors along the horizon to stain the snowy canvas of clouds. After the swim, they had decided to take harbor under the Tree of Good and Evil, and there they lay, stretched out beneath its waxy boughs. Instead of guarding it, however, (which was their excuse for being there in the first place) they lounged; their limbs spread, with eyes trained upon the rich Sunset and the many delicate stars that had begun to shy their way through the skyscape. It felt very comfortable to Aziraphale, who enjoyed the low, almost intimate exchange of time, which was neither peaceful nor violent, but lazy and accepting, just as he liked it.

To Crawly, however, it was quite different. There was an impatience lurking in his belly, and it had been there since the trip to the river. He couldn't quite put is finger on it, but still it continued to grow into an urgency as they remained relaxed upon the friendly ground. The demon was baffled and a bit irritated; this mystery feeling had some nerve, ruining his first day as a human! And as much as he wanted to just enjoy the comfort of lying in silence with his sweet companion, every time he inhaled the air, which was alive with a murmur of peonies and wheat, the urgency told him to _move_. There was no way to appease it.

He didn't even know what _it_ was.

Beside him, Aziraphale's mind was, ironically, not very far off. He didn't feel as squeamish as Crawly did, but he gradually felt his thoughts drifting to the humans. Every day around this time, they would similarly stop and observe the dramatics of dusk settling. And when it was over, the man would extend a hand to the woman, touch his mouth to hers, and press closely to her amiable form. She'd flush prettily, joy evident in her wide eyes, and at that point Aziraphale would turn away. Those moments always felt private to him; too selectively happy for him to witness. But still, curiosity tingled at the tips of his fingers, and he wondered what it was like to share a human embrace. He especially wanted to know what went on afterwards.

Perhaps he'd never know.

Unless he tried it for himself.

And why shouldn't he? Having no prior knowledge about an act that didn't exist until the rise of mortals, Aziraphale could not imagine that there were taboos to it, or rules he should follow. Like everything else both new and untested, all there was to rely on was instinct – instinct that, unfortunately, no one but mortals had. Nevertheless, he decided to make a valiant guess. Perhaps, he reasoned with no one else but his swelling heart, it was something done when one wanted to share a feeling of safety and kinship with someone trusted. Perhaps it was to lose oneself in that exquisite grip of sensitivity that came with a mortal touch. Perhaps it was a necessary act, like breathing, and possibly just as pleasant.

If he wanted to truly understand the humans, he decided, he'd have to share their experiences as accurately as possible.

"Crawly," Aziraphale whispered, finally edging away the silence that sat over them. "I would like to try something, if you don't mind."

Crawly was surprised to find that he was more than eager to touch the angel again. The knot in his belly clenched at the very thought as the blonde described his proposal.

He spoke of what he had seen from the humans, and of how he believed it was in their best interest to explore this hazy world of human partnership if they hoped to truly one day connect with the ones they were supposed to influence. Crawly needed no persuasion. The command his body cried over and over again, that explicit desire to do _something_, almost sent him pouncing upon Aziraphale as the angel continued to babble and make excuses. Crawly forced himself to remain still for now. The last thing he wanted was to scare the angel off, and he still didn't completely understand why his head swam whenever he cast a furtive glance at the blonde.

"I agree," the demon finally croaked.

Aziraphale blinked, not sure whether or not he should be surprised. "You do?"

"Definitely." Crawly paused. Perhaps it would be safer if he didn't initiate this; it was Aziraphale's experiment, after all. "Go for it."

Without protest, Aziraphale pushed closer to the demon and spread a long hand over his shoulder. To his delight, Crawly's skin felt just as lovely as before, and even better than when he'd slithered down Aziraphale's body as a snake. There was a heat lurking under his hand, a maddening little throb that hit against his fingers as he innocently touched from shoulder to neck.

The angel smiled a bit shyly and moved his face closer. With Crawly looking at him so intently, those serpentine eyes bright in the waxing moonlight, it was hard to focus on the task at hand. Aziraphale placed his other palm on the demon's unexplored chest, and was thankful when it caused him to sigh and close his eyes. It was much easier to kiss someone when they weren't staring at you.

It was gentle at first, wistful and expected; their lips met with all the force of a hesitant morning mist. Nothing happened. A brushing of delicate skin was not enough to cause… well, whatever Aziraphale had been expecting; he wasn't quite sure himself.

But when Crawly snuck a softened glance at him, one eye still cautiously shut, he decided it was worthy another try. The angel ran his hand from chest to thigh, across a hardened stomach and over the soft swell of hips, and kissed that pliant mouth again. Slow at first, and then as Crawly began to touch him back, all the while his breath coming in sharper, deeper grunts, it began to bloom. He pulled Crawly's head in closer, tilted his own to the side, and pressed together once more; this time, the kiss was exploratory and slow, their mouths questing to know each other completely. The demon's hand dipped and stroked along the tight muscles of Aziraphale's back, causing soft sounds to escape his blushing lips.

And that was more like it. Aziraphale moved his mouth over Crawly's with glee, a flighty sort of feeling starting at the base of his spine. They exchanged sweet kisses again and again, too lost in the sincerity of the act to control their wandering hands; soft puffs of air occasionally flirted across their faces as they broke apart, sometimes to exchange shy smiles. Both decided with a look that this was very nice indeed, and that it would be a shame to stop so soon. Curious little exchanges turned heady when one of them (possibly Crawly) opened their mouth for a delicate taste and was met with a gasp and an excited retort. The angel was drawn closer, much to his delight, and moaned softly as their tongues met in a dance.

"Is it supposed to be this way?" Crawly asked between heated breaths.

"I don't know," Aziraphale sighed.

But that was good enough.

Their bodies closed the gap on their own somehow, causing the lighter of the two's air to catch in his throat. There were no words for how wonderful it felt to be pressed so close to Crawly, who was warm and affectionate against him. As if on cue, the demon's arms enveloped around him, and Aziraphale became caught in his first embrace. Their mouths still eagerly claiming one another, both calmed their petting for a moment to enjoy the feeling of being locked in someone's arms. A hot little calm bled through them, down their limbs and across their cheeks, as one shifted against the other and sent them headfirst into a swell of pleasure.

Nothing mattered to either of them after that. There was only Aziraphale and Crawly, and the strange sentience that had unexpectedly (but thankfully) seized their bodies. It was as if each suddenly knew what to do, or at least knew what felt good, and they were determined to explore every inch of it.

Crawly broke away from Aziraphale's intoxicating mouth. "So that's what that feeling was," he panted, now breathing unconsciously. He filled the seconds with another bruising kiss and ran his hands down the angel's spine. Aziraphale responded by pressing a hand to his chest and slowly pushing him to lie comfortably on the grass.

"What?" the angel finally asked.

"Nevermind," replied the serpent as he swallowed Aziraphale up once more.

Maybe it was the urgent whimpers beginning to bubble up from the angel as he stayed spread against this partner's body. Maybe it was the way he squirmed when Crawly drew in his lower lip and sucked, causing a tremor to twist up through the both of them. Or maybe it was the way Aziraphale gasped and turned pink when the demon slid a tentative hand down over the soft slope of his backside, across the stretch of his thighs, where they lingered for a moment to stroke.

It could have very well been the way Aziraphale looked, blushing and hovering over him, with the stars tangled in his pale, loose curls.

But no matter what led to it, Crawly suddenly pushed his way up and rolled, pressing the angel down to the trampled grass. They paused for a moment and surveyed one another with hungry expressions.

The curious urge to taste his angel arose, making Crawly duck down and kiss along his virgin neck. Aziraphale threw his head back and whimpered, hands folding over fistfuls of grass. The dark-haired demon, encouraged, slid swollen lips along a trail of white flesh, cheered on by the pleading moans falling from Aziraphale's mouth. A series of kisses broke out over the angel's flesh, and after a bold little bite, Crawly took hold of Aziraphale's hand and pressed it above his head.

And that's how he came to have the angel spread wantonly beneath him, blue eyes begging, insatiable and impatient. But Crawly was drunk on his scent and the way his silky skin warmed beneath his ministrations. He slid fingertips over that thin wrist he possessed, dipping down to caress the sensitive palm, and paid special attention to each and every finger. He wanted to know every part of Aziraphale, to learn what made him cry out, to know where to touch him; Aziraphale, however, grew restless.

He wriggled beneath him and gasped, but it only made the demon more determined. Crawly's hands began to explore every inch of Aziraphale's skin; from the stretch of his chest to the tiny bumps of his hip bones, down inside his thigh to the skin at the back of his knee. Every place he discovered caused the angel to shudder beautifully and whisper his name. Crawly began to crave it – began to hunt for ways to make Aziraphale moan for him.

All the while, Aziraphale felt he was drowning again. Only this time, instead of his lungs burning, his very body was scorched with each touch the demon lavished upon his blushing flesh. It was exquisite, if not overwhelmingly frustrating. It was a curious thing the way his hips continued to bounce off the ground, as if they wished to be pampered by the demon as well. But every time Crawly dragged a hand over them, they pressed up, Aziraphale's jaw clenching with anticipation, and there was a tense wait… followed by nothing. Aziraphale felt like screaming.

"Crawly, just do it, please!" he begged finally as his partner kissed along his chest. Crawly lifted his head up and gave a lazy smile.

"Do what, angel?" he asked, sincere and attentive. "I'll do anything."

"I don't… I don't know," the blonde admitted, hindrance and confusion evident in his voice. Crawly felt his form stiffen under him as the force of his desire collided with how unsure he was; frowning, the demon put a comforting hand on Aziraphale's cheek. "It just feels I need to… I mean, there should be… there is an _ache_ in me. Don't you feel it?" Barely daring to breathe, Aziraphale leveled his desperate stare at the other, praying he wasn't alone in this. "I need you to… do _something_, but I have no idea what it is. It becomes worse when you touch me, and especially when you kiss me."

Crawly was momentarily stilled by the look in Aziraphale's eyes. Their normal blue was conquered and replaced by so much stark desire that he felt almost eaten alive by them. The angel was telling the truth when he said he needed something from him, and as he broke their gaze and moved his yellow eyes down Aziraphale's taut and shivering frame, he realized that he needed something from him too.

Not bothering to answer, much to Aziraphale's indignation, Crawly worked his hand into those lovely, heavy curls and placed himself over that writhing body once more. Their skin touched, as hot as the surface of the Sun, and caused a shudder to play down their limbs. Once again, Aziraphale's hips bucked, and they both let out surprising cries.

"_Yes!_" Aziraphale gasped. "Oh, Crawly, Crawly my dear…"

And that was it – that was what they had to do, judging by the way their bodies screamed when they rocked together, and the way their minds slipped away. Each time Crawly pressed down, driving the angel against the grass, he would tense and moan and let out the most arousing encouragements. Elated at having discovered it (though they still weren't sure exactly what it was), Crawly began to move with Aziraphale, their bodies connecting and sending bright shocks of pleasure through their legs and bellies.

The demon locked his mouth with his companion's once more; still riding the angel's rolling hips and responding with a thrust of his own, and they exchanged greedy kisses, devouring one another. There was a great sense of heat between them, a hungry sort that caused them to passionately quicken against each other, every stroke and moan coming sweeter and more tempting. It slowly ushered them towards fulfillment; and though neither of them knew what they were rushing towards, every nerve in their bodies shrieked that it was right, and that it was good, and that they must finish as soon as possible. Luckily, it didn't take too long, and before they both knew it they were at the threshold, ready to look at what was awaiting them.

Blinding light exploded behind Aziraphale's eyelids, and somewhere, a part of him that could still think fancied that this was what it must be like to touch the hot white Sun. Fever swept over him, burning him alive as it held tight; Aziraphale latched onto Crawly's neck and dared not utter a sound. His body stiffened, turned to boiling stone, and he prepared to fall.

His own vision swimming before he shut his eyes tight, the serpent locked onto his partner's hips and hissed from beneath his solid teeth. A tension, a wait, a rolling though his spine, and then an urgent lockdown of all function; Crawly wouldn't dare to make a move, even if he could. And then, trembling frightfully, they spent themselves against one another. Neither screamed, though every part of them was infused with it, and neither gave thought to the bruising force at which they clung to each other as the world spiraled away from them and left their torrid bodies ragged.

Neither knew what happened after those last ecstatic waves fell from their skin; perhaps they had simply melted together, by the feel of the stickiness between them. But Aziraphale and Crawly lay together on the broken ground, arms dangling lazily over each other, as their blind hands worked on their own to comfort and calm. They watched each other as they tried to regain a bit of breath, not a single thought in their eyes. There was only satisfaction expressed there, and gratitude, and an overwhelming amount of understanding that would keep them together until the end of the world.

The funny thing about satisfaction, as the angel and demon were about to find out, was that it can often lead to feelings of devotion. It is true that love isn't birthed from sex… but it certainly isn't far off. To have someone make the effort to cater to your needs, and to get it _absolutely_ correct, is a rare thing. And to be so content to lie there with the one who delighted your body and gratified your every need is even rarer. Aziraphale touched Crawly's face and offered him a tired smile, which was met with a soft, tender kiss. The funny thing about satisfaction, as they both now knew, was that it made you absolutely crazy about the one who gave it to you.

He watched from the tips of the grass, His bare feet scraping the delicate tips without bending them. There was a smile that shamed the pallid moon on His face; His children were asleep, though they did not need to rest their mortal-shaped bodies. Their happiness radiated to Him in waves, and for the second time that day, He felt truly appreciated. With a gentle dissipation, He was beside them, leaning over to whisper into their unhearing ears. _I'm particularly proud of it, too_, He told them wordlessly with a grin that warmed their souls and caused the two to move closer together. _I'm very glad you liked it._ Thoughtfully, He reached down and placed a hand on Crawly's cheek, causing the young one to flinch and shiver. _Treat My son kindly, fallen one, and remember his heart. I haven't forgotten you, and never shall he. It will be rough for a while…_

Instinctually, Aziraphale tightened his arms around the demon and sighed.

_Remember that this is ineffable. This is my plan._

Some time later, Aziraphale was rather proud of himself when he realized how close he had been on all accounts.

Some people will tell you that the Tree of Knowledge was an apple tree, based on the age-old belief that the fall of mankind was caused by a woman eating an apple.

Well, they're wrong about that first part.

The sacred Tree was really a tree of all sorts of fruits, and all of them were particularly tempting. There were apples, of course, with big juicy figs, tiny clumps of bright red cherries, and even clusters of seedless watermelon. It was all in all a beautiful sight to behold, but as Crawly reached up and plucked a vine of grapes from the branches of the Tree, he had to wonder what kind of logic went into a forbidden tree that grew every type of fruit you could ever want.

Oh well. Surely if he brought it up with Aziraphale, there'd be a lecture on ineffability and divine wisdom. The serpent looked down on the angel, who was still fast asleep, and popped a delectable little grape in his mouth. The great ineffability debate could wait until another day.

"Wow, these really are good," the demon said, glancing approvingly at the bundle in his hand.

Before he could raise another to his lips, the sound of a rustle caught his attention. Crawly turned his eyes to the trees around them and was surprised when, as soft as a doe, the woman appeared from behind a great trunk. She simply peered at him at first, particularly unsure to approach a stranger eating calmly from the one thing she was supposed to avoid. The demon could see her wide, clear eyes and instantly read what she was thinking – _but we're the only ones._

However, the woman was braver than some would later give her credit for. She stepped out of her hiding place and approached the strange dark-haired man, her shoulders squared and her face curious, rather than scared. She stood before him, unashamed of her nakedness, and reached up to touch his sharp cheekbone. Recognition dawned on her face.

"Serpent," she said as she stroked a finger over his eyebrow. Crawly gazed at her with his telltale eyes and smiled.

"You're very perceptive," he replied.

_Get up there and make some trouble,_ a voice echoed in his head. Not dropping his smile, Crawly mentally cursed at having forgotten his job. He had gotten so wrapped up in this new body, and with Aziraphale, and well… other things were on his mind – things that had nothing to do with the stark young woman in front of him. Which was probably why he was now mentally kicking himself for being caught in the situation unprepared; he'd been planning trouble for the better part of a week, and now that he'd finally caught up to the humans (or, rather, one caught up with him), he wasn't sure what to do.

Then again, his original plan hadn't been much either. Really, he just thought he'd come close to biting them a few times; not that he had venom, of course, but surely the stress would do something, right?

But it seemed as though the woman had some sort of plan of her own. After studying Crawly's eyes intently, she took a step back and reached for the bundle of grapes still dangling from his fingertips. The demon released them to her carefully, watching with fascination as she brought them up to her eyelevel and turned them over for scrutiny. And then it hit him. The perfect way to cause trouble – make her disobey their only rule! It was ingenious. "Would you like some?" Crawly asked hopefully, a genuine grin on his face. "They're very ripe."

His heart fell when she shook her head, tossed the grapes aside, and walked away from him.

She didn't walk far, however. Once she reached the Tree, she extended her arms upward into the branches, as if fishing for something pleasing to her eye. She found it within minutes, and pulled the apple down, where it settled into her slender palms.

Crawly grinned like a snake. "You know, if you eat that, you'll be disobeying Him." That earned him a dangerous look from the woman. Her eyebrows slanted on her forehead, she made eye contact with him once more, and the demon was suddenly humbled by the intensity in their strangely colorless depths. "You're… tired of being told with to do, aren't you?"

The woman nodded.

"The man orders you around?" He was answered by another nod. Her expression was emotionless, as if she were already used to it "Because… why, because he came first? He thinks he knows better?" The look in her eyes told him all. Crawly frowned, clasped the apple in her hand lightly, and took it for himself. Perhaps having her disobey His rule wasn't such a bad idea after all, for more reasons than one. At least this way the poor young lady wouldn't be constantly ordered around by her mate. And really, what was so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway?

_Wait, no, I'm supposed to be doing what's definitely bad,_ Crawly reminded himself. _And disobeying Him is definitely bad, even if she does it so she can be equal with the man._

He glanced down at Aziraphale, who noisily began to wake. Crawly swallowed and paled, not wanting the angel to see him doing this, and pressed the apple back into the woman's hands. "Eat it," he hissed, leveling his yellow gaze on her once more, "and he cannot take advantage of you anymore. You will have the upper hand; _you_ will know everything, and he will not!"

A telltale spark lit in her eyes, and Crawly grinned triumphantly. He had her exactly where he wanted her. "Eat it," he repeated, moving her hands slowly toward her mouth. "Eat it and everything will be better."

The first crunch made as she sank her teeth in awoke Aziraphale completely. He sat up, rubbed his clear blue eyes, and stretched. "Mm," he sighed contently, a soft smile on his face. "That was lovely, very refreshing. I think… Crawly?" The angel, surprised to find his dark haired companion not at his side, looked around quickly and spotted the brunette standing with… the woman? Aziraphale spotted the apple at her mouth and leapt to his feet, eyes wide with terror and realization. "Crawly, stop her!"

"It's too late, angel," the serpent replied, vision glued to the woman's face as she chewed. It was like watching the Sun rise on a cloudy morning; the light spread over her face as everything she hadn't known before came to her then. The flesh of the apple was rich with everything she should have seen before. For example, she realized with horror for the first time that she and all those around her were naked.

And that's when he came out of the trees.

She stared at her mate with slow understanding; past her mortification, she realized that he too had the right to understand his mistakes, even if he had been cruel to her. And perhaps if she shared, he would thank her and understand that treating her like an underling was wrong; at least, it felt wrong to _her_, so perhaps he would learn his lesson as well.

"Adam," she called, and extended the apple to him. The man's eyebrows shot up and he moved towards her, surprise and apprehension twisting about on his face. "You need to know."

He took the fruit from her.

Aziraphale watched, completely horrified, and screamed once more, "Crawly, DO SOMETHING!" His voice was pleading and almost heartbroken, but as the demon watched the exchange, he knew that even if this was wrong, he could do nothing to stop it.

But then it was over. The man tore a piece from the fruit and let it fall to the ground, his limbs tingling with newly discovered understanding. "Eve…" he whispered, reaching out to grasp her hands. She smiled brilliantly at him, and as he pulled her into his arms, there was…

Nothing.

Time seemed to freeze over itself, for all was silent and still as the world cracked. Out of the rift stepped an indistinguishable figure, burning white and furious, pinning all who watched in their places. No one could breathe; in fact, it was though their air was trapped and trying to claw its way out of their lungs as they looked upon Him.

Aziraphale fell to his knees. "My King," he whispered, head bowed. A wretched feeling started low in his stomach, making him feel positively sick to his very bones. "Forgive me. There was nothing I could…" As He turned to the angel, Aziraphale closed his mouth and grimaced. "Yes, Lord."

He cast a final look at Crawly, eyes filled with anger and betrayal, and _wished_. Before his last heartbeat could hit his chest, the angel changed, and the stunned humans watched as he began to float above the grass, bright wings shooting from his back. Aziraphale stared sullenly at the ground, his expression unrecognizable to the demon.

But before Crawly could reach out to his companion, He turned his eyes, as bright as a million stars fixed upon His face, onto the snake. And instantly, in the core of his heart, he knew what he had done, and what his punishment was to be. Crawly also stared at the ground, and slowly, sadly, he sank back into the miserable form of a legless serpent. He stayed silent as the Lord moved away from him and approached the terrified humans.

_See how you both hide from Me,_ the angel and serpent heard Him say to them. _Why are you ashamed?_

"We were naked, Lord," the woman spoke softly after finding her air. She was chilled down to the very bone and trembling fiercely before Him; and yet, she was the only one who seemed brave enough to speak.

_How did you know you were naked, Daughter?_

"We ate from the Tree," she replied.

He paused and looked at her with a universe of hurt spiraling across His broad face. He seemed as betrayed as anyone in that moment, and suddenly all of their hearts were wrenched from their chests. Crawly curled tightly around himself and shivered. Aziraphale remained silent, though had anyone been close enough they would have seen the tears starting in his eyes.

_Then you shall know death,_ He said finally, sounding as though His only children were already buried. _You did not trust that I would keep you safe… so I shall not. Leave my Garden immediately. You are no longer welcome here._

And then He turned and left them.

Curiously enough, as Crawly watched Him retreat, he thought for a second that He turned and gave him a tiny smile. The snake flattened upon the ground and stared, his heart still and coldly bunched in his throat.

The man and woman turned to each other then, terrified eyes meeting, and began to weep. After a few moments of pained tears, they led each other away and soon disappeared amongst the trees, presumably to leave the Garden for good.

It took a few minutes before Crawly worked up the nerve to slither over to Aziraphale and raise his head to look at him. "Angel," he hissed, but was stopped short when a dark glare pinned him to the ground.

"I ought to crush your head, snake," Aziraphale spat.

Crawly swallowed as best as a serpent could and tried to fight the dismay that rose within him. "I didn't…"

"I don't care, Crawly," the angel interrupted angrily, taking a step back and wincing as he felt no footfall. "I was obviously wrong about you. You're just as evil as the rest of them. I should never have trusted you."

"But I…"

"Be gone with you!" Aziraphale yelled. But instead of Crawly slithering away, the blonde turned and fled as fast as he could. The demon watched as his form shrank smaller and smaller, and coiled in upon himself once more.

It was then that he noticed it was still night time. Only hours before, he was curled up with his angel, touching the soft nape of his neck with his warm fingers.

With Aziraphale gone, the temperature of the night air bit into his blood and sucked his energy dry. The misery of a cold-blooded animal sank deep into his heart; and perhaps that was how he was cursed to remain for all eternity.

Of course, not all things are eternal. Aziraphale eventually forgot most of his anger, and made a small but cold agreement to let bygones be bygones with the serpent. It was comforting to Crawly, but a part of him was ashamed of the hurt he felt over the angel's apparent regret about what had taken place between them. And so they never spoke of it again, and exchanged no touches or tender words to seal the deal. Time passed, and sometimes they saw each other; but mostly it was Aziraphale coming to thwart his plans. It seemed, much to the serpent's dismay, that Aziraphale liked it better that way. He ignored his own longing to be near the angel, and numbly did what Hell commanded.

When the world's population grew into thick, plentiful tribes, Hell granted Crawly, then Crowley, a human body. It wasn't far off from his previous one back at the Garden. In fact, Crowley had specifically decided to keep his serpent eyes, just in case a certain someone needed the help recognizing him.

He didn't.

At that point Aziraphale had obtained a human body of his own, which similarly wasn't very far off (if you ignored the extra weight he'd put on and a few charming wrinkles) from his original. They met with surprise one day, neither expecting to see a reminder from the past thrown so wantonly in front of them. It took a few frozen minutes before the shock began to creep from their bones.

Aziraphale breathlessly said hello.

Crowley offered him some wine.

Already sliced.

Predictably, forbidden fruit didn't have much effect on beings who already knew the difference between good and evil.

To his credit, he hadn't had much practice corrupting humans before then.


End file.
